


It is not the soldiers who have shot me full of holes.

by thelittlestbishop



Series: All I know of falling is finding the ground [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Gen, Natasha and her hair, One Shot, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7707976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestbishop/pseuds/thelittlestbishop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first pull on her hair sends pain shooting down her scalp, grabbing her full attention after she shakes off the momentary confusion, but the second one resonates more deeply inside her, anger at herself already brewing, though it's pushed away as fear gnaws at her insides when she falls into the car. Her chest hurts. The door closes with a thud of finality and, as she works out the best plan to get out of the vehicle alive, panic joins the ache behind her ribs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It is not the soldiers who have shot me full of holes.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Kevin Prufer's "After You Have Vanished"  
> Work inspired by saltyscully wanting to discuss Scarlett's undercut and the pictures where it seemed to be dyed red, the file name was literally 'hair fic'. This thing has been sitting in my drafts for months, it feels good to get it out there. It would probably stay there until the end of time if it wasn't for Carol.

The first pull on her hair sends pain shooting down her scalp, grabbing her full attention after she shakes off the momentary confusion, but the second one resonates more deeply inside her, anger at herself already brewing, though it's pushed away as fear gnaws at her insides when she falls into the car. Her chest hurts. The door closes with a thud of finality and, as she works out the best plan to get out of the vehicle alive, panic joins the ache behind her ribs. 

Being blasted out of somewhere is never kind on the body, but as she lies on the warm grass that softened the fall, air knocked from her lungs and smoke in her throat, the most pressing thought is that she's at fault for being in this position. She put herself there. The infamous Black Widow, nearly taken down because she got too comfortable in her own skin. 

It's not the time nor the place for this and she knows it, making her way to the market to catch the men fleeing. Her hair seems to weight a ton as it falls heavy on her shoulders, making her hyper aware of how it swings behind her. 

Scissors find their way into her hands when they're back at the compound, showered and in clean clothes. She snaps them a few times, trying to make up her mind as angry thoughts swirl in her head. 

Tony tells her to be prepared for a meeting with the Secretary of State. Her curls live to see another day, but it all goes downhill from there, emotions running high as people begin to choose their side in this battle. And so her hair still hangs heavy from her scalp.   

In Vienna it carries the stench of blood, smoke, and debris. It's singed at the edges and the bitter smell engulfs her, even as she tries to focus on the important, real issues at hand. 

Steve makes everything worse, and though it doesn't surprise her that he chose this path she didn't think he would make things worse in such a spectacular fashion. The chaos that follows and devolves into the face off between _family_ friends in Germany is more than enough to push her personal issues to the back burner, a nice and dark place for them to fester as they please. It's not the time to think about herself. This is bigger than her. It's bigger than all of them. 

The pattern continues. _It's not the time, it's not the time, it's not the time._  

She begins to wonder if it's her that's not giving it the time of day, if she's just avoiding it, but by then she's already back on the run, back in the life she thought she had left behind years ago but that keeps coming back to her. If there's one thing that being on the run has taught her it's constant change is necessary, in actions, thought and appearance. 

Finally, it's the right time and she doesn't hesitate as she brings the scissors up to the hair framing her face. Her fingers run through the curls one last time, bringing memories of a time when the sensation was welcomed and not to be feared. When she trusted the fingers that delved through her hair. 

She forces herself to stop thinking about him by snapping the blades together, a strand of red falling to the floor, quickly growing into a heap. It's choppy and clumped in places, each cut angrier and messier as she stares at herself in the mirror until there's just enough left to make it look decent. And when she falls into the creaky hotel bed at night and presses her fingertips up to her scalp she can only hide her face against the pillows to drown out her frustration. 

The night bleeds into the days that follow, a steady pattern of monotonous change taking over until it's broken by Steve's phone call. She finally stops renting cheap motel rooms by the side of the road with beds that creak. 

She used to enjoy cheap motels, she reminds herself. But that feels like a thousand years ago and anyway, she had good company back then.   

When he picks her up he doesn't make comments, only his eyebrows move up in shock at the drastic change from the last time he saw her. She shrugs it off without a reply, moving on to the plans instead. Barnes is gone and she doesn't question it much, settling when Steve tells her he's in good hands. It's not the toughest job she's ever done, but it's a nice exercise for muscles that have been dormant for far too long. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos and comments are super appreciated.


End file.
